


The Social Event of the Season

by Jenksel



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Halloween, Parties, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 12:16:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12168720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenksel/pseuds/Jenksel
Summary: Jenkins wants to give Cassandra a night to remember.  The ancient Mesopotamian demon--not so much.





	The Social Event of the Season

“Oh, please, please, please, Jenkins! Just this once?” Cassandra Cillian implored, her hands held together in front of her body in a gesture of pleading as she followed the tall, white-haired man around the Annex workroom. 

“Absolutely not!” responded Jenkins resolutely. The patience of the ancient Caretaker of the Library was beginning to wear thin. He loved Cassandra dearly and hated to deny her anything, but THIS? This was simply too much.

He halted suddenly, causing the closely-following Cassandra to run into him. She jumped backwards and looked up into the Caretaker’s stern face as he turned around.

“You can plead with me from now until Doomsday and it won’t make a bit of difference, Cassandra. I will not change my mind. I am NOT going to a Halloween party!”

“Come on, Jenkins—it’ll be fun!” the redhead persisted. “And you know you could use some fun. You’ve been holed up for the last two weeks doing nothing but research for Flynn and Eve; you need some time to relax! They’re billing it as the social event of the fall season—AND the whole thing is for charity. All of the proceeds go to the children!” During her stay in the hospital after her brain surgery, Cassandra became acquainted with the children’s ward, and her heart had gone out to the desperately ill children she found there. After her recovery was completed she began volunteering on a regular basis, reading to the kids and just spending time with them, especially the ones who didn’t have any family who could visit them often. The Halloween party was a popular annual fundraiser for the hospital, and an occasion for the children to participate in at least some sort of Halloween festivities while they were hospitalized. 

Jenkins sighed in exasperation and looked hard into the eager blue eyes of the pretty young woman. “No, what I need is to finish this research as quickly as possible. Mr. Carsen and Colonel Baird are depending on it for a successful, not to mention SAFE, conclusion to their current mission,” he said, his tone sharp and unyielding.

Cassandra dropped her gaze, crestfallen. 

“All right,” she said, chastised. “I didn’t mean to pester you about it. I just thought it would be something fun for us to do together, that’s all, just for one night. You’ve been so busy lately…” She shrugged her shoulders and pulled herself up as tall as she could, giving him a weak smile as she bravely tried to hide her disappointment.

“But you’re right, of course—the Library’s work should come first. I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again.” Cassandra turned and started to walk away.

“Cassandra, wait!” Jenkins closed his eyes as his shoulders slumped, berating himself silently for snapping at her. He tossed the book he had been reading from onto a nearby table and hurried after the Librarian. Coming up behind her he placed his hands on her shoulders and lowered his head to her ear.

“I’m sorry, my heart,” he murmured, contrite. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh.” He wrapped his long arms around the petite woman and gently embraced her as he nuzzled her cheek. “And I guess I HAVE been neglecting you somewhat, haven’t I? Forgive me?”

She placed one hand on his encircling arms and lightly stroked the side of his head with the other as she smiled mischievously. “Only if you promise to come to the party,” she responded with exaggerated archness.

The older man squeezed his eyes tightly shut and groaned as if in pain. “Does it really mean that much to you?” he asked plaintively.

“Yes. Yes, it does,” she said with a firm nod.

Jenkins sighed as he straightened up. “Very well. You win, my dear. BUT—“ he hurried to say as Cassandra clapped her hands and fairly danced with excitement. “Only for a couple of hours!”

“Absolutely!” she agreed immediately. “Oh, this will be so much fun, Jenkins! I’ve always wanted to go to a fancy costume party!”

“COSTUME party?!” the Caretaker squawked, eyes widening in disbelief. “Costume party?? You never said anything about costumes!”

Cassandra gave the immortal an annoyed look. “It’s a Halloween party, silly. Why wouldn’t there be costumes? Ooooo...!” She clapped her hands and started bouncing again.

“I know exactly what we should wear! You should go as a knight and I’ll go as a princess!” she said, practically squealing. “I found a room absolutely STUFFED full of old costumes in the attic the other day, we can find something to wear out of those....!” Before Jenkins could say another word, Cassandra turned and skipped away, chattering plans to herself excitedly. Bewildered, Jenkins could only stare after her, his hand over his slightly agape mouth. 

_What on earth have I gotten myself into? _he asked himself.__

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A few nights before the party, as they were preparing for bed, Cassandra was again talking about the event. While volunteering at the hospital that day, she had heard members of the staff talking about the various arrangements, and she was eager to share every scrap of the gossip with Jenkins. The Caretaker, however, wasn’t really interested in party talk this evening. Cassandra was very fetchingly wearing the top half of his pajamas, and THAT was all he was interested in right now. As she climbed into the bed and settled in next to him, he pulled her close with a lusty growl and began to playfully nibble her earlobe and her neck. Annoyed by his distracting browsing, she absentmindedly pushed him away. 

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“Stop that, Jenkins! I’m trying to tell you about the party!” The older man rolled his eyes and released her. ‘The Party’ was all she thought and spoke of these days. She seemed almost obsessed, and Jenkins had been starting to worry. Now, his romantic advances rebuffed, he lost all tolerance for the subject.

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“Cassandra, in the name of all the gods, WHY are you so fixated on this party?” he snapped in frustration as he rolled over onto his side of the bed. “It’s just a fundraiser, not a presidential inauguration ball!” 

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The bubbly woman fell suddenly silent. After a couple of moments she turned onto her side so that she was facing him and snuggled into his body as closely as she could, draping her arm over his stomach. Sensing her distress, the knight instinctively put his arm around her protectively despite his current irritation with her.

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“I guess I have been kind of weird about it, haven’t I?” she sighed, her voice small and sad. “I’m sorry, Jenkins. It’s just that...I know this is going to sound stupid, but, when I was little.....my parents never let me do any Halloween stuff. No parties, no costumes, no trick or treating—nothing.” She paused, as though hesitant to go on, but then continued.

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“They said it was a waste of time and a distraction, that I needed to spend my time working as much as possible or studying nonstop for whatever was going on that year. But when I saw all of the other kids dressing up and having so much fun, heard them talking about the parties and their costumes and all the candy they got from trick or treating, all the pranks they played on each other, I just felt so.....left out.” Jenkins remained silent, letting her speak at her leisure.

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“Every year I used to fantasize about dressing up as a fairy-tale princess. I don’t know why, but I always wanted to be a princess. Maybe because they’re so glamorous and everyone loves princesses. Anyway, I’d dream of wearing a big fancy dress, one of those big, tall pointy hats with a veil, lots of jewels and gold—the whole thing. I used to fantasize that I would walk into a party and everyone would see me and just stop suddenly and stare at me and think ‘Oh, she’s so beautiful!’. All the guys would want to dance with me, all the girls would be jealous of me. Just for a LITTLE while, just a few hours, I wouldn’t just be ‘that weird math girl’ or ‘that nerd’ or ‘that math genius’. I’d just be a _princess.” ___

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Cassandra went quiet and she lightly stroked Jenkins’s chest absentmindedly. “Like I said, I know it sounds really stupid, but when I heard about the party at the hospital, I thought that this was my chance to make some of that fantasy finally come true. I guess I HAVE been pretty childish about it, though, haven’t I? I’m sorry.” She stopped for a moment, then took a deep breath.

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“If you don’t want to go, Jenkins, that’s ok, I understand. I did sort of strong-arm you into it. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t have any right trying to use you to fix my issues.”

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Jenkins, to his horror, felt a tear fall from Cassandra’s face and roll slowly down the bare skin of his chest. He rebuked himself for being such a selfish, thoughtless bastard; he should have guessed from the beginning that this all had something to do with her unhappy childhood. He held her tightly and bent to kiss her head, his heart now aching for his beloved Librarian. If something as simple as a Halloween party could make her so happy, soften some of the unhappy memories she had been carrying with her for so many years, how could he possibly take that away from her? 

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“No, Cassandra, I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have realized why this would be so important to you. It’s not stupid at all, and you’re not being childish, only child-like, and that’s not a bad thing, not in this dark world,” he murmured. “As far as being a princess is concerned, well...” Jenkins gave a small shrug before continuing.

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“I’ve met a great many princesses in my life, and believe me when I say that you are by far the most beautiful one, inside AND out, that I have ever known. I am the most fortunate man in the world, and I can’t wait to walk into that party with you.”

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He felt her long lashes brush his skin as she tried unsuccessfully to blink away more tears, felt the warm droplets slide down his side. He felt the corner of her mouth pull upward as she smiled against his chest. 

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“My knight in shining armor,” she whispered.

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“Always, my love.”

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They held each other quietly for several minutes, content with each other’s company. Jenkins was just on the edge of sleep when Cassandra spoke again.

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“Have you really known a lot of princesses, Jenkins?”

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“Scads of them.”

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The Librarian began running her hand across her Caretaker’s broad chest. “And am I really prettier than any of them?”

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“Compared to you, my love, they’re all nothing but mangy, flea-bitten street curs.”

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Cassandra sniggered softly. “Is that really true, or are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

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“I swear on my honor as a knight,” Jenkins rumbled solemnly as he raised his right hand. “They are all schnauzers compared to you.”

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“Awww, you’re so sweet!” she purred as she slid her hand beneath the waistband of his pajama bottoms. “I think you deserve a reward for saying that, don’t you?”

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“As you command, my lady,” Jenkins responded eagerly, a grin of anticipation spreading across his face.

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Eve and Flynn successfully completed their solo mission and returned to the Annex a couple of days before the big night. As soon as Cassandra told them about it, Eve insisted on helping with her costume, and they spent an entire day in the attic searching for the perfect dress. Jenkins informed them that the clothes in the attic weren’t just costumes; they were the actual wardrobes of all the past Librarians and Guardians, put into storage after their deaths and charmed against moths and dry-rot—over a thousand years’ worth of clothes, shoes, accessories, jewelry. The fashionista Librarian was like a kid in a candy store. 

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After Cassandra had settled on a gown and accessories, she and Eve then spent the entire day of the ball doing Cassandra’s hair, make-up, and dressing her. The men, especially Jenkins, were strictly forbidden to see Cassandra before she was ready. 

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While the girls were working on Cassandra, Jenkins locked himself in his rooms. He opened a rarely-used closet and went to the very back, where a massive, intricately-carved wooden chest sat. He stood and regarded it silently for a moment; it had been a very long time since he had last opened this chest. He almost turned around to leave the closet, leave the trunk in its dark corner, unopened. But no; this evening was a special occasion. He wanted it to be as special and as magical for Cassandra as possible. He was determined to fulfill any and every little wish Cassandra had this evening. If that meant revisiting the past for an evening, then so be it. He grasped one of the time-blackened wrought-iron handles and hauled the heavy, dusty chest out into the bedroom.

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He fished a heavy iron key from his vest pocket and unlocked it. The stiff hinges screeched as he lifted the lid, revealing several cloth-wrapped bundles tucked neatly inside. He quickly began removing and unwrapping the bundles, laying the contents out. Soon he had a full set of gleaming Thirteenth Century chain-mail armor scattered around the room. A magnificent longsword, a matching dagger, a great helm of steel, a double-wrap belt and scabbard of fine leather, a pair of finely-wrought spurs, a steel-bound wooden shield and a long surcoat of fine muslin emblazoned with the arms of Sir Galahad were spread out nearby. Jenkins stood back and took in the sight of the medieval armor. He smiled to himself as he removed his suit coat and began untying his bow tie. Cassandra wanted a knight to accompany her to the party, and a knight was exactly what she was going to get.

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The night of the party found Eve Baird, Flynn Carsen, Ezekiel Jones and Jacob Stone gathered in the Annex workroom, anxiously awaiting the appearance of the knight and his ‘princess’. Eve had finished helping Cassandra with the majority of her ensemble, and now she waited with the others as Cassandra took care of the finishing touches herself. No one wanted to miss the sight of the pair in their party togs. They were all gathered around the long table in the middle of the room, chattering amongst themselves, when Eve suddenly fell silent and stared in the direction of the corridor doorway. One by one, the others noticed and followed her gaze. All gaped in amazement at the sight of a very tall, regal-looking knight, covered head to toe in full mail armor, formidable weapons strapped to his side, standing quietly in the doorway. 

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“Jenkins?” Eve breathed incredulously. “Is that you?”

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The imposing knight took a few strides closer, gracefully drawing the longsword at the same time. He was greatly amused to see them all unconsciously take a step backwards as the gleaming blade sang from the scabbard. He held it in front of him and then made a sweeping gesture of salute with it as he bowed to the group, his left hand on his chest. He straightened and replaced the sword in its scabbard, then removed the heavy great helm, revealing a face beaming with satisfaction at their reaction to him. He next pulled off the chain-mail coif from his head, mussing his thick white hair in a roguish fashion. Eve had to admit to herself that Cassandra sure knew how to pick them; Jenkins was nothing short of incredibly handsome in that armor—even sexy.

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“Wow!” was all she could say.

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“’Wow’ is right!” shouted Flynn excitedly. “Jenkins, that has got to be THE most incredibly authentic-looking Halloween costume I have ever seen!” The younger man ran over to the knight and began to closely examine the various items in his outfit. “Wait—this isn’t just a costume! These are all 100 % genuine components of a Thirteenth Century English knight’s armor! This stuff is all well over 700 years old!”

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The tall man nodded. “Yes, sir. It’s my tournament armor, though I haven’t worn it in a very long time, obviously. I was afraid it wouldn’t fit anymore—I’m not quite of the same physique now as I was back in my younger days...” He patted the little bit of a belly he had now with a gauntleted hand. “But it all still fits rather well, I’m happy to say. What do you all think? Will Cassandra be pleased?”

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“VERY pleased,” said Eve fervently. “And just wait until you see what she’s got in store for you!”

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“Wait, wait, wait!” Stone interrupted, waving his hands in front of himself. “You wore this in tournaments? Actual knight tournaments? As in jousting, melees, hand to hand single combat…?”

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“The very same, Mr. Stone. I was rather good, too, I’m proud to say.”

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Jacob stepped forward and fingered the taller man’s surcoat, of plain white emblazoned with the long red cross. “How could you wear the arms of Sir Galahad in the 1200’s?” he asked, suspicious.

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“Ah, yes, well…technically, they’re the arms of Sir Galeas of Shrewsbury.” Seeing the puzzled looks, he went on to explain.

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“As Mr. Stone has noted, I could hardly continue to use the name ‘Galahad’ for hundreds of years without raising awkward questions. Every few decades—before I joined the Library—I had to change my name, assume a new identity. In the early 1200’s, I was Sir Galeas of Shrewsbury, a direct ‘descendant’ of Sir Galahad, and that entitled me to use my own arms.” 

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“Is Jenkins here yet?” called Cassandra suddenly from the second floor, concealed by the shelves of books.

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“Oh, yeah, he’s here!” Eve called back. “You ready, Cassandra? You need any help?”

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“No, I think I can manage, thanks,” she responded. “Well, ready or not, here I come!”

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All eyes turned to the staircase. Cassandra appeared from around the corner and stood at the top of the stairs. There was a collective gasp from the others below.

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She wore a silk gown of sapphire blue, embroidered all over with stylized pomegranates and roses worked in gold thread, and trimmed in ermine. Rather than the high pointed hat she told Jenkins about, she instead wore a small, solid gold circlet in her flame-like hair that was braided and wound around her head, interwoven with strings of tiny pearls. She wore matching pearl earrings and a multiple-strand necklace of pearls.

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As she carefully descended the steep staircase, her eyes landed on Jenkins, and she nearly stumbled in astonishment. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him as she continued down the steps—he looked so... dashing! Except for the white hair, he looked exactly the way she had always imagined a heroic knight would look—tall, handsome, brave, proud. And he was all hers. She could scarcely believe this was all really happening...

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She reached the bottom of the steps and held her hands out to the tall knight. He took them in his and just stood there, drinking in the sight of her.

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“You are breath-taking,” he said simply, fervently. The deep blue of the dress brought out her eyes and complimented her hair perfectly. She radiated confidence and joy, and that, combined with her beauty, made her irresistible. Heedless of the others, the normally reserved Caretaker pulled the young woman in close and kissed her.

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Eve, her eyes damp with tears of happiness for Cassandra, slipped her arm affectionately around Flynn as they watched the love-struck couple; it was like seeing the happy ending of a fairy tale come to life. Jake and Ezekiel were elbowing each other, sniggering and dying to say something sarcastic, but a look from Baird kept them quiet. 

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“You two better get going, or the party will be over before you even get there,” she said, pushing Flynn towards the globe that controlled the back door. “Set the door, Flynn, let’s get these kids on their way.”

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The Librarian set the portal to open up inside the hospital close to where the party was taking place. The door came to life and swung open. Eve gave Cassandra a quick hug. “You look fabulous!” she whispered to the redhead. “You have fun! And I’ll wait up—I want to hear all about it!” 

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“You guys behave yourselves,” Flynn grinned as the two approached the door. “Don’t do anything Eve and I wouldn’t do. And you make sure you have her home by a decent hour, young man!”

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“Yes, dad,” Jenkins answered acerbically. Deciding to leave the burdensome helm and mail coif behind, he took Cassandra’s hand and together they walked through the door.

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The door Flynn dialed up for them opened onto a hallway near the large cafeteria area of the hospital where the party was being held. The entire space had been transformed into an elegant Halloween-themed nightspot. Decorated in orange, black and gold, dozens of beautifully-carved candlelit jack o’lanterns were scattered throughout the room along with arrangements of fall flowers, leaves and colorful ears of indian corn. Tables were set up around an area cleared for dancing, and there were long tables of food and drinks for the guests. The lighting was dim, and each cozy table had a small glass-enclosed candle that flickered invitingly. There were scores of guests, adults and children, all wearing costumes of all descriptions, and live music. Cassandra squealed with delight when she saw the room.

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“Oh, Jenkins! It’s beautiful!”

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Jenkins had to agree; whoever was in charge of the event had done an impressive job. And the food actually looked rather tantalizing; was that really crème brulee he spied on one of the dessert tables? Perhaps this party wouldn’t be quite as trying as he had feared. He offered his arm to his princess. “What shall we do first, my dear?”

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“Oh! Let’s dance! Can we?” she immediately answered.

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“Whatever you wish,” he said, smiling and leading her towards the dance floor. He noticed the many glances Cassandra received as they passed through the crowd, appreciative ones from most of the men (and even several of the women), envious ones from others. There were the inevitable few who looked askance at the May-December pair, but Jenkins ignored them. 

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“Don’t look now, my dear, but I think you’ve made quite an impression,” he murmured into her ear as he held her close while they slowly danced. 

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“Really?” she said, giggling nervously as she glanced around. 

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“Of course. You ARE the most gorgeous woman here.”

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Cassandra blushed as she leaned into him.

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The two hours that Jenkins had promised Cassandra came and went uncounted. Time was completely forgotten as they danced, talked, laughed, fed each other gourmet delicacies and drank fine wine. He gladly did whatever his Librarian asked of him; he even allowed himself to be coaxed into doing the Chicken Dance, much to Cassandra’s glee. She couldn’t stop smiling, and it filled Jenkins’s heart with pleasure to see her so happy. 

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“Cassandra, my dear, could we step outside for some fresh air?” the knight asked as the hour passed midnight. “Between all of the wine and dancing and this heavy armor, I’m feeling a bit overheated.”

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The Librarian nodded her head. “Yeah, I could use some air, too.”

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The crisp October air was a welcome relief to the heavily costumed pair as they stepped through the main entrance of the hospital. They strolled leisurely along the sidewalk quietly for a bit before Cassandra stopped and turned towards her tall companion. 

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“I got so wrapped up in everything else that I forgot to tell you how handsome you look tonight,” she said. She reached up and ran her fingers through his white mane. “You are one stone cold fox,” she murmured as she slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her body against his. “And all I can think about right now is how long would it take me to get you out of that armor.”

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“Hmmmm,” Jenkins hummed deeply. It sounded like distant thunder in her ear. “I was just wondering how long it would take me to get you out of that dress.” He wrapped his strong arms around her as he kissed her. _Perhaps it’s time to call this a night and head back to the Annex, _he thought.__

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Suddenly Jenkins felt something tugging on his surcoat. Thinking it was Cassandra, he ignored it and continued to kiss his beloved mathemagician. The tugging came again, harder this time—and from behind, he realized.

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He pulled away from Cassandra brusquely and pushed her behind him protectively as he whirled to face the stranger, his hand going instinctively for the hilt of the dagger at his side. He looked around, but saw no one. 

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The tugging came again, this time right in front of him; Jenkins looked down and was surprised to see a small, painfully thin Hispanic girl who didn’t look any older than seven or eight years old. She was dressed in a long, green princess dress of her own, a gold-colored crown perched on her raven-black head. This princess, unlike the one peering from behind his back, was armed with a little plastic sword of her own. She barely came to Jenkins’s waist in height, but she stared fearlessly up into the imposing knight’s face.

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“Oh, it’s Noemi!” Cassandra exclaimed. “What are you doing out here all by yourself, Noemi!” Jenkins looked back at her, his expression quizzical. 

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“She’s a patient here at the hospital,” she whispered quickly. “She’s been here for weeks, but the doctors haven’t been able to figure out what’s wrong.” 

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Jenkins turned back to the little girl. She pointed her tiny sword up at him accusingly, a stern look on her own face. “Are you Miss Cillian’s boyfriend?” she demanded.

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The tall man blinked, taken aback by the question. “Er, yes, actually, I AM Miss Cillian’s....boyfriend,” he answered uncomfortably; he was still unused the ‘B-word’. He heard Cassandra stifle a giggle behind him.

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Noemi’s dark eyes widened as she leaned in closer and asked in conspiratorial tone. “Are you a REAL knight, or just pretend?”

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Jenkins stood up straight, offended by the question, even from a seven year old. “I can assure you, Miss Noemi, that I AM a real knight.”

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The tiny girl broke into a wide grin and her black eyes lit up. “You can kill the monster in my room!”

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“I beg your pardon?” the knight asked, confused again. “What monster?”

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The smile faded from the little girl’s face as fear filled her eyes. “There’s a monster in my room. It tries to eat me.”

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Cassandra had come out from behind Jenkins by now. She laid her hand on his arm. “She’s been telling people that a monster is what’s making her sick.”

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“It IS a monster, Miss Cillian! I saw it!” Noemi protested. “I can’t kill it, ‘cause only knights can kill monsters. You said your boyfriend is a knight. He can kill it for me!”

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Jenkins gave Cassandra a look. “Miss Cillian told you I was a knight, did she?” Cassandra only smiled and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. He turned back to Noemi and knelt down so he could speak to her more easily.

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“What does this monster look like, Miss Noemi?” he asked.

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Her eyes became large and frightened as she described her monster. “It’s big! Bigger than you! It looks like a cow, and has big wings and big claws. And it wears a skirt.”

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The immortal stood up, his face somber. “Show me your room, please.”

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Cassandra felt a flutter of fear pass through her. “Jenkins, what is it? Is it another minotaur? But they don’t have wings...”

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“No, I don’t think so. Minotaurs never leave their lairs, and they’re not known for causing illnesses. I’m not quite sure what this is yet. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps something very bad.”

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The Librarian sighed. “I see what Eve means now when she calls you ‘cryptic and annoying’.”

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Jenkins took her hand as they started off after Noemi. “I apologize, my dear,” he said. “I prefer to wait until I have more information before I come to any conclusions, but I think Miss Noemi’s monster may not be entirely in her imagination.” He squeezed Cassandra’s hand as they hurried along. “I hope I’m wrong!”

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As they passed by the nurses’ station, the nurse on duty, taking in the costumes, tried to stop them. “I’m sorry folks, no visitors are allowed this time of night. You’ll have to come back tomorrow morning at 11:00.” 

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Cassandra merely batted her eyes innocently and informed her that they were Librarians. The young RN blinked in confusion for a moment, then waved them on with a smile. 

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“Very impressive,” Jenkins murmured as they followed the little girl down the hallway. “I daresay you’re as good at that now as Mr. Carsen.” Cassandra beamed with pride at the compliment.

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Noemi led the Librarian and the knight down the empty corridor to the door of her hospital room. Before she could turn the handle, Jenkins stopped her and gently moved her behind him. Keeping his right hand on the hilt of his dagger, he carefully turned the handle with his left and pushed the door open slowly. He looked behind him at the others. “Cassandra, perhaps you could convince the nurse to take care of Miss Noemi for the rest of the evening, preferably someplace else? Just in case there really is a ‘monster’, it would be better not to have either of them in harm’s way.”

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As Cassandra escorted Noemi back to the nurse’s station, Jenkins slipped quietly into the room; with luck he could take care of this himself while Cassandra was out of harm’s way as well. A feeble glow from a distant outdoor security light drifted in through the window, casting deep shadows throughout the small space. As he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, Jenkins could smell the sickening stench of rotting flesh in the air; not a promising sign. The Caretaker walked silently to the closet and gently pressed his ear against the door. He held his breath as he listened intently for the slightest sound from within, but he heard nothing. He put his hand on the door knob and began to gingerly turn it.

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The closet door crashed open, startling him as he was thrown backwards, but he was able to keep his feet beneath himself. Just as he was straightening himself up, Jenkins saw a gigantic, black form rush towards him. He felt two heavy things clamp down on his shoulders with a grip like iron and roughly jerk him forward. He gasped in pain as the pressure caused the iron mail to bite hard into his flesh, despite the padding he wore beneath the armor. He clawed for the dagger at his waist. Suddenly he felt searing pain as several sharp objects were driven into the meaty area where his neck met his right shoulder. He cried out as he freed the dagger from its sheath, and, striking blindly, tried to drive the blade into whatever it was that had him.

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He felt the dagger connect with something. Though it was a poor hit, it was enough to make the creature release Jenkins. As soon as it let go of him, he threw himself to the floor and managed to shimmy beneath one of the beds. He came out on the other side and clambered to his feet, dagger at the ready. Jenkins heard an angry snort, and saw in the wan light the dark form of a gigantic humanoid figure, every inch of ten feet tall, with the head of a bull. Its skin was a scabrous grey, and its hands were armed with sharp, viciously hooked claws of black that gleamed. Large, leathery wings were half-spread behind it. As Noemi had described, it was indeed wearing a ‘skirt’—a kilt-like garment in the style he recognized as that of ancient Mesopotamia.

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The ancient knight knew the creature at once. It was an edimmu—the angry spirit of what was once a human being, an unfortunate soul who had died a sudden or violent death and never received the proper rites of burial. Such beings were bitter and vengeful, jealous of the living and seeking retribution on them by causing illness and death, especially among the weaker members of society. Like children. They were usually incorporeal, but they could take on this physical form if they wished. It was very rare to find one this far outside the Middle East, though…

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The room was flooded with light as Cassandra, hearing the commotion upon her return from the nurse’s station, threw open the door to the room and switched on the lights, momentarily blinding Jenkins. As he blinked rapidly against the harsh florescent lighting, he heard the Librarian gasp as she caught sight of the edimmu.

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Cassandra glanced at the Caretaker. She was shocked to see a large stain of blood blooming down the front of his white surcoat. “Jenkins!” she cried out in alarm. The edimmu turned towards her at the sound of her voice, snarling in rage. It made a slight movement towards the door. Immediately, responding by instinct, Jenkins quickly switched the dagger to his left hand, put his uninjured left arm back and hurled the dagger at the beast with all his strength, embedding the weapon deep into the side of its head. Shrieking in pain, its attention was immediately redirected back to the knight as it fiercely jerked the blade from its head and threw it clattering to the floor. Jenkins drew the longsword out of its scabbard, crying out in pain again as his injured shoulder protested the movement. In such a confined space he knew the sword would be of limited use as a defensive weapon. As the means of disposing of the edimmu permanently, the longsword was completely useless.

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“Get out of here!” Jenkins barked at Cassandra. “Find something made of wood! I need a weapon made of wood!”

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Cassandra was reluctant to leave him alone. “Jenkins, no! I can’t leave you…” she began to protest.

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“GO!” he roared, desperation and pain in his voice. The Librarian, startled, pulled the door shut.

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She began to frantically search for something made of wood that could be used as a weapon. Everything she saw, though, was made of metal or plastic. A loud crash came from Noemi’s room, and she thought she heard Jenkins groan, then a screaming roar from the bull-headed monster. She pulled off the high-heeled shoes she was wearing and tossed them aside, then ran in her stocking-feet down the hallway and turned the corner, wildly looking in all directions for a potential weapon. Nothing. She started to turn when her eye caught a familiar word posted on a nearby door: “Custodian”.

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She flew to the closet and yanked open the door. There was bound to be a mop or a broom in here with a wooden handle! Flipping on the light she began to tear though the various cleaning tools and supplies in search of one made of wood. Panicked dismay began to fill her chest as every mop and floor sweeper she laid her hands on seemed to have a handle made of everything except wood. Finally, in the very back of the closet, she found an old long-handled window squeegee with a battered wooden handle. 

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Snatching up the squeegee, she ran as fast as she could in the clumsy dress out of the closet and back down to the room where Jenkins and the monster were. She was just outside of Noemi’s room when the heavy wooden door suddenly exploded outward. Cassandra screamed as she turned and ducked her head, covering her face as best she could to protect it from the splinters of wood and shards of glass whizzing by her. 

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The Librarian heard a gasping wheeze. She turned, and was horrified to see a bloodied Jenkins slumped in a dazed heap against the wall, the wind knocked out of him. Even after having been thrown through the door, the knight still kept a firm grip on the longsword.

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“Jenkins!” she yelled as she dropped the squeegee and ran to the fallen man, throwing herself onto the floor next to him. The massive edimmu tore through the remnants of the door at that moment, howling with rage and displaying a terrifying maw full of razor-sharp fangs. Cassandra was grimly satisfied to see that Jenkins had at least given as good as he got. The creature had multiple deep gashes all over its body that oozed a blackish, nauseating-smelling ichor. The injuries didn’t seem to be slowing it down very much, though.

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The edimmu launched itself towards the fallen knight. Cassandra, without thinking and desperate only to protect him, snatched the sword out of Jenkins’s hand. She scrambled to her feet and had just enough time to brace herself against the wall and pull the unwieldy weapon up with both hands, just enough to allow the beast to completely impale itself on the blade before it could check its momentum.

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It shrieked, enraged by the fresh injury. It viciously backhanded the Librarian with a clawed fist, sending her flying airborne down the hallway several feet before landing hard, her head cracking nastily against the tiled floor. She slid several more feet along the flooring before finally coming to a stop. Miraculously, Cassandra was dazed, but didn’t lose consciousness. Her head spinning, she pushed herself up slowly and painfully, in time to see the edimmu turn back to Jenkins. The sword was still skewering it through the abdomen, but it was out of the knight’s reach. Cold terror clutched Cassandra’s heart—Jenkins was completely defenseless.

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She looked wildly around for anything to use against the monster, and saw the squeegee lying on the floor nearby. She recalled suddenly Jenkins’s words about needing a weapon made of wood; did he mean a spear? Or a stake, like for killing vampires? Did it have to go through the thing’s heart, or could she stab it anywhere and still be able to kill it? She didn’t have time to puzzle it out. Jenkins was in danger.

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Cassandra dizzily clawed her way across the floor to the squeegee, fighting the urge to vomit the whole way. The long skirts of her dress made it difficult to get a foothold. Standing up on shaky legs, she quickly placed the squeegee beneath one foot, and with all her strength pulled up on the handle. The old wood snapped just above squeegee’s head with a loud crack, and to her relief she saw that the long wooden handle she was left with had broken such that it now had a sharp point. Cassandra brought the improvised weapon up and whirled around to face the edimmu. The vengeful spirit by this time had seized Jenkins, hauling him up into the air and savagely shaking the hapless Caretaker like a rag doll. 

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“Oh, no you don’t!” she growled to herself. Tightening her grip on the long wooden stake, the Librarian charged, screaming an impromptu war-cry as she charged at the monster. Distracted momentarily, it turned to face her, still clutching Jenkins in one hand. Cassandra seized the opportunity and plunged the stake squarely into the beast’s chest as hard as she could.

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The edimmu immediately dropped the injured knight to the ground and bellowed. It clawed at the stake wildly in an effort to pull it out, but it was too late. Within seconds the spirit was engulfed in a blinding yellow-white burst of flames, then melted into a large pool of stinking, smoldering grease. Jenkins’s longsword clanged loudly to the floor. Cassandra stared at the thick, tar-like pool warily, but nothing further happened. A groan from Jenkins brought her attention back to the Caretaker.

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“Jenkins!” She crawled over to the immortal, who was painfully trying to push himself up into a sitting position. Cassandra tried to help him as gently as she could, but even so he gasped sharply in pain. The poor man had taken a sound beating. “How badly are you hurt?”

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“I’ll be alright,” Jenkins hissed through gritted teeth. “I’m sure it looks much worse than it actually is.” He glanced at Cassandra, and his eyes widened as he saw a large, swelling beginning to form on her left cheekbone and around her eye that promised to bloom into an ugly bruise soon. “Cassandra! You’re hurt!”

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She reached up and gingerly touched the tender spot on her face. “I’m okay,” she said reassuringly as she smiled grimly at Jenkins. Her head was pounding, but she put on a brave face so as not to worry Jenkins. “I’m sure it looks MUCH worse than it actually is.”

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The Caretaker looked at the smoking ooze on the floor and the destruction around him. “I think it’s time we got back to the Annex, before people show up and start asking a lot of unanswerable questions,” he said. With Cassandra’s help he climbed slowly to his feet. 

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“Cassandra, please find my dagger in the room for me?” he asked. His voice betrayed the intense pain that he was trying his best to hide from her. The redhead ran into the room and quickly located the weapon. When she came out into the hallway, Jenkins was carefully replacing the longsword back into its scabbard. He took the dagger and shoved it in to the sheath. He was pale and unsteady on his feet, and Cassandra knew he would never make it back the original door location Flynn had set up for them earlier.

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“Wait here, Jenkins; I’m gonna call Eve and have her set a door closer for us,” she ordered the wounded knight. He nodded in acquiescence. Cassandra ran to the now abandoned nurses’ station and quickly dialed Eve’s number. When she was done she ran back to Jenkins and found him wearily propping himself up against the wall. She put her arm around his waist and tried to brace large man as best she could. A few seconds later one of the nearby room doors began to glow pale blue. The Librarian struggled to help the Caretaker walk the short distance and through the door, back to the safety of the Annex.

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“Jenkins! Cassandra! Jesus Christ, what happened?!” Eve yelled in alarm as the battered, bloodied pair stumbled through the back door. She ran over to the other side of Jenkins and helped Cassandra walk him over to a chair. He dropped into to gratefully.

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“The hokey-pokey contest got out of hand,” he said testily. He winced and sucked in his breath sharply as Eve, checking over his injuries, touched the ugly bite to his shoulder. 

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“Honestly, woman, do stop fussing!” he snapped irritably as he swatted her hands away. “I’ll be happy to tell you all about it, TOMORROW, when the excruciating pain I’m in right now has dulled down to just agonizing.” He got stiffly to his feet and began limping sorely toward his rooms. “It’s almost three o’clock in the morning, and right now all I want to do is to get out of this insufferable armor and into my nice, soft bed.” 

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Eve stared at the retreating knight. “Now just a damn minute, Jenkins! You get your grouchy ass back into this chair…!” Cassandra held up her hand.

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“It’s okay, Eve, I’ll take care of him,” she said. “We’ll tell you all about it tomorrow, I promise.” She pointedly looked at the still fully-dressed woman and grinned. Cassandra ran over and gave Eve a quick kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for waiting up for us, mom. We had a great time!” She then turned and ran after Jenkins. 

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It took much longer than Cassandra ever thought to remove a heavy suit of chain mail. When Jenkins was finally shed of it all, she was aghast to see his body covered in large, nastily purpling bruises and bloody puncture wounds from the edimmu’s claws and teeth. The bite on Jenkins’s shoulder was especially frightening; she was certain that if not for the armor he was wearing at the time, the beast would’ve taken a huge chunk out of him. 

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Jenkins sent her to his lab for a particular glass bottle of amber-colored liquid. When she returned with it, he unstopped the bottle and had her take a large gulp of the floral-scented contents. It tasted sweet and had a slightly allspice-y aftertaste. She felt a warm wave quickly spread throughout her entire body. The splitting pain in her head ceased and the swelling where she had been struck began to disappear instantly. She realized that this must be a healing potion of some kind. Jenkins waited to see if she needed any more of the liquid, and when he was satisfied that she’d had a sufficient dose, he tipped the bottle and thirstily gulped down the rest. He perked up almost immediately as the pain he was feeling faded quickly to something he could easily tolerate. He smacked his lips appreciatively and plunked the empty bottle on the table next to him. 

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Cassandra ran a steaming-hot bath for him, helped him to slip off his robe and into the large, old-fashioned claw-foot tub. The Caretaker sighed loudly in relief as he slid his aching body into the soothing water. Cassandra rolled up her sleeves and perched on the edge of the tub. Using a large sponge, for several minutes she did nothing except to slowly wring hot water over his head, back and shoulders, smiling at the sighs and groans of pleasure it elicited from Jenkins.

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The weary immortal leaned back carefully in the tub and closed his eyes for a few moments. Cassandra reached out and gently stroked his wet hair. He opened his eyes and looked up at the Librarian. He raised a dripping hand to her injured cheek and touched it lightly.

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“Does it still hurt?” he asked softly. She shook her head.

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‘No. I’d forgotten all about it, in fact, until just now.” She lowered her own hand to his face. “You, on the other hand, look like hell.”

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He chuckled and made a show of looking himself over. “Yes, I suppose I do look rather the worse for wear, don’t I? The potion should take care of the worst of it, though. The immortality will take care of the rest. I should be right as rain again by this time tomorrow.” He knitted his brow and cast an overly dramatic glare at her. “I must say, Miss Cillian—you certainly know how to show a man a good time!” Cassandra giggled as she adjusted her seat on the edge of the bathtub. 

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Jenkins took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry your evening was ruined, my dear,” he said sincerely. His eyes ran quickly over the disheveled young woman. Her beautiful dress was now torn in several places; one sleeve was almost completely ripped out. Some of the multiple strands of pearls she had been wearing around her neck were gone. Her hair was a mess, the braids having come loose. The gold circlet had somehow survived. The swelling and bruising on her cheek was almost completely gone now, but he could still see it. Despite her state of dishevelment, she was still achingly beautiful in his eyes.

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“You can make it up to me,” she said flirtatiously. “You can finish what you started when we were taking that walk around the hospital. If you feel up to it, that is.” She leaned over and lightly brushed her lips against his. Jenkins reached up to pull her head down for a proper kiss, but she slipped away from his hand. She spun around on the edge of the bathtub so that her back was facing him. “Would you be so kind as to undo my dress, Sir Knight?”

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Without saying a word Jenkins reached out and untied the lacings of the dress, gently pulling them loose for her. Cassandra stood up and, with her back still towards him, she pulled the dress from her shoulders, letting it fall in a heap onto the floor. Her undergarments followed, leaving Jenkins a tempting view of her pretty backside. She began to remove the jewelry and circlet, to undo the rest of her hair.

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“Don’t!” he ordered, his voice low. “Leave them.”

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The young Librarian flashed him a demure smile as she turned around. She spread her arms and stretched luxuriously, allowing him to rake his eyes longingly over her body. She climbed carefully into the water and sat at the opposite end of the tub. He watched with eager, dark eyes as Cassandra squeezed the hot water over herself with the sponge.

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“Stand up,” she said, reaching out her hand to him. Jenkins obeyed, his eyes never leaving her. Cassandra lathered the sponge with soap and began to gently bathe every inch of him. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her hands moving over his slippery body, especially when she lingered over his stirring manhood. When she was finished she squeezed spongefuls of clean water over him, rinsing the suds away. 

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Cassandra then began to bathe herself, but Jenkins took the sponge away from her. “Allow me,” he said huskily. He removed the circlet and slowly took her hair down. How he loved to run his fingers through the fine red strands! It was like running his fingers through silken threads. He turned his attention to slathering suds methodically all over her body, sending a thrill through her by giving her sex an especially firm, slow scrubbing. The soft, moaning sigh she made in response was all the encouragement he needed.

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Jenkins quickly rinsed her off and tossed the sponge aside. He stepped out of the tub and offered her his hand. As soon as she was out of the bath, he pulled her into his arms and embraced her tightly as he kissed her hungrily. Cassandra responded in kind, pressing her hips into him eagerly while her hands moved down his back to squeeze his buttocks firmly.

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Jenkins, heedless of any lingering pain, picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, both of them still dripping wet. He dropped her onto the bed and climbed in on top her, his greedy mouth kissing, sucking and nipping her everywhere he could reach. 

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They spent the rest of the early morning hours in each other’s arms. Jenkins was still determined to make what was left of this evening a gift to Cassandra, something just for her, and he refused to allow his precious Librarian to do a thing except receive the pleasure he was happy to give her. For reasons even he didn’t fully understand, the immortal felt almost desperate to join his body to Cassandra’s. Perhaps it was residual adrenaline from his fight with the edimmu; perhaps it was the ice-cold fear he had felt when he watched helplessly as the enraged spirit struck her, and again when he saw the petite redhead fearlessly attack the towering monster with nothing more than a flimsy stick of wood. Perhaps it was the realization of exactly how fragile was the love that he had only just found after so many long, lonely centuries that caused him to physically cling to Cassandra. 

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After their lovemaking, as they lay in a contented tangle, Jenkins whispered into her ear. “Happy Halloween, Cassandra.”

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The Librarian snuggled in closer. “Happy Halloween, Galahad.”

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“Have I managed to offset some this evening’s ‘unpleasantness’ for you?”

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“Unpleasantness? I don’t seem to remember any unpleasantness,” she said lightheartedly.

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They were silent for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, before Jenkins spoke again. He already knew what her response would be, but he had to ask her the question that had been disquieting him for some time.

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“Will you promise me something, my love?”

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“What?”

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“Promise me that you will never risk your life for me ever again?”

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He felt her tense slightly in his arms.

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“You know I can’t do that, sweetheart.”

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“Please, Cassandra?” he whispered, desperate for the security of reassurance. “It’s bad enough that I will outlive you. I can’t bear the thought of losing you sooner than I have to. It would destroy me if you...died...on account of me.”

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There was a long pause before the Librarian spoke.

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“You’re only semi-immortal, Jenkins. There’s _always a chance _that I could lose you first. I can’t bear that thought. It would destroy ME if you died on MY account.”__

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Sighing, she pushed herself away from him and turned her face up to look into his. She laid a hand against his face and turned it to make sure he was looking into her eyes.

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“If you ever see me in danger, will you ever NOT try to help me, even if it means that you might be killed?”

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He thought briefly of lying to her, but he knew she would see right through the lie. 

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“Never,” he answered forlornly, conceding defeat.

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Cassandra resettled herself against his body, tightening her arms around him.

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“How can I do any less for you and still be able to say that I love you?”

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Jenkins had no answer to that, and so he remained silent. He tightened his own arms around Cassandra, and eventually the two drifted into an exhausted, bittersweet sleep.

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**Author's Note:**

> It's HALLOWEEN, ya'll! Thanks for reading. Any kudos/comments are GREATLY appreciated.


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